


brontide

by unbeat



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - MAMA (Music Video), Alternate Universe - Monster (Music Video), Knifeplay, M/M, Masochistic tendencies, Mild sensory deprivation, PWP, but with some plot, if it interests anybody its, mild bloodplay, superpower au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-11 13:30:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10466127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbeat/pseuds/unbeat
Summary: Exercising in one of the training rooms usually calms Jongdae down. Yixing shows him another method.





	

One would think spending all your life being trained for combat (“We don’t combat,” a voice suspiciously sounding like Junmyeon nags in his head, “We protect and defend innocents.”) would equate to being useful. However, the higher-ups don’t think so, which explains why Jongdae has been pacing through the corridors of the training hall for the better part of an hour.

Kyungsoo and Baekhyun had been deployed into an area a few cities over earlier today, shaken awake by Yifan who was quick to inform them the bosses wanted them to go out to “contain a situation, apparently the force is being as incompetent as always.” With those words, the twelve boys shared a look that fully showed their discomfort with increasingly working alongside the police.

Junmyeon may say that their purpose is to protect and defend those who can’t do so themselves, but it’s become more and more evident that they’re just pawns for the government to order around to their whims – military chess pieces to send around and intimidate the people into behaving, nothing more and nothing less.

On a good day, Jongdae can convince himself he has no choice in firing bullet after bullet into masses of people eagerly loitering outside the elite district of the Capital City for a glimpse of the luxurious lifestyles they’ve been denied since birth.

On a good day, the only people he has to knock down are just the bold ones who try and force their way inside. They’re the few people they are tasked to handle, but the orders say frightening the hordes would be the best policy.

If he’s honest with himself, most days aren’t good days.

Baekhyun and Kyungsoo make up the Dream Team ( _Or is it the Dream Duo?_ he muses. There are only two of them, after all). They’re the least likely to escape physical altercations unscathed – which doesn’t mean much, but they make up for that aspect with their skills.

Baekhyun is a master of manipulation – mind control, something to do with lights and neurological thought tendrils, and Kyungsoo causes earthquakes for the threat of it. All artificially-engineered, of course. DNA manipulation and all of that.

They’re test tube babies. The twelve of them (along with many other unsuccessful ones) have been experimented on from before birth, and have thought to most likely be products of sperm and egg donations selected to design super-soldiers capable of any Herculean feat. They wouldn’t know. Unit EXO aren’t supposed to ask questions or ponder on their origins because if it won’t aid them in being the victor in conflict, it’s useless, and useless is bad.

Which is why Jongdae aimlessly meanders around with pent up frustration before ducking into the enemy simulator room. The idea of uselessness has never felt so prominent until now, or rather: feeling useless has been his main hobby this past year, ever since all members of their twelve-man unit had been sent out to put down a large riot on the other side of the country. It was a test to gauge the cohesiveness and individual strengths of every member. And it went so well; at least, until he managed to summon lightning that struck everyone.

Lightning was dangerous and unpredictable; therefore, Jongdae was dangerous and unpredictable. The bolts that struck the normal citizens stunned them enough for most to fall back into a dazed state, ceasing the constant gunfire that had started upon their arrival. Predictably, the water-based users’ powers were dampened, deeming Junmyeon, Minseok, and to a small degree, Zitao, out of commission. Unpredictably, the fire unit (consisting of Yifan, Sehun, Chanyeol, and Jongdae himself) faltered as the electricity coursed through their veins before it rebounded out of their system, wild and intense and uncontrollable.

To this day, Jongdae has no idea how mission control got pyromaniac Chanyeol to control the 3-meter flames being emitted into every direction, and that wasn’t even the worst of their problems when both Sehun and Yifan conjured the largest series of dust storms the Outer Area had seen in centuries due to their combined cold and hot air powers, respectively.

Overall, the mission was successful in that one, the bosses didn’t really care about civilian lives, and two, their abilities were finally assessed for field specialization. The Dream Team took over crowd calming tactics. Offense was lumped into one large conglomerate: Junmyeon’s liquid control and Minseok’s freezing power producing rather interesting results on organisms with a healthy supply of blood within them; Yifan with his heat-powered flight and Chanyeol, the fire wielder, working well with wind-controlling Sehun, who also happened to be the best strategist, directing the majority of assaults; Yixing, an overall asset with his healing properties who was usually sent out on major missions expected to yield large casualties. The pull-out team came in the form of telekinetic Luhan, time-manipulating Zitao, and teleporting Jongin. As Unit EXO rarely ever needed to retreat, the aptly dubbed “T Trio” were also the best at warfare, whether it was weapon-based, hand-to-hand, or even designing and commandeering the gun turrets of the newly self-built mecha.

Jongdae fit the latter category in practice, but not in name. Due to his failure during their first excursion, home base had placed a curb on his lightning-generating ability by clamping a power inhibitor around his neck. In essence, the government and money hungry scientists had wrought numerous changes to Jongdae’s child body to give him the power to conjure and harness the power of lightning, only to restrict him with a collar. Feeling useless was an understatement.

Inarguably, Jongdae is the best in close quarter conflicts, but his forcedly minimal participation in group missions has earned him an almost-permanent job as a member of the Capital City’s watchguard. Which equals shooting at overeager individuals clamoring for a spot in the opulent city life behind the walls. Thankfully, his guard duty only lasts for two-week intervals before he takes the train out of the city to the secluded laboratory holding area for a month long break in between each job session.

Not so thankfully, that means month long intervals of him doing nothing but eating, training, and waiting for the others to come back from their individual missions, further contributing to his sense of uselessness.

In the simulator room, Jongdae instructs the computer to pull up the list of combatants. As he scrolls through the available options, he simmers at the insinuation headquarters leaves that he himself could not endure pacifying the people. He, Chanyeol, and Baekhyun are the best impromptu orators in Unit EXO, if Chanyeol would turn down the bravado a few notches. Just because he was good at combat didn’t mean it would be the first thing he would resort to.

After a few seconds of mindless contemplation, he finally chooses the knife throwing stage. He jabs at the screen repeatedly and groans as the loading message continues to blink. Leaning over the console helps to alleviate the incoming headache he can start to feel, and he makes a note to find Yixing and ask if he could help in some way.

The beep of the machine refocuses his attention, and he resolutely clicks Level Nine, the hardest difficulty the impalement activity offers, but also one he mastered when he was seven years old.

He backs away into the center of the room and smiles as the room begins to darken. He sees the computer retract back into the wall before he is blind, and he prepares his body for the agile movements he knows he will have to undertake.

The walls hide niches where blades are dispersed towards the moving target in the room; in this case, Jongdae. Level Nine relies heavily on endurance of around twenty minutes with constant attack from all directions, and he relishes the soreness that will accompany his muscles and bones after the exercise.

The first knife comes without warning, which is contradictingly what he expected. He sidesteps out of the way and hears it whiz past his ear before clattering to the opposite wall. Within four heartbeats, he hears the second blade being unloaded behind him, and he calmly kneels to the ground before rolling to the left as it fires.

This is his favorite part of it all; where he’s robbed of his sight, and the knives mimic a lightning bolt’s path and sound and effect, and it is up to him to avoid it. He feels strangely feline as he perches close to the ground before straightening and sliding his body between two approaching blades. The imagery of a cat and its nine lives almost makes Jongdae cackle. He feels like he should be fortunate to have all nine of his lives, but he brushes off the thought to concentrate on the auditory cues the blades leave.

By now, every second yields around three knives, and this is the pace that will continue for the rest of the exercise. At the ten minute mark, he’s broken into a mild sweat and is barely panting. He hates to show openings before it is truly over. This is also the part where he takes it upon himself to assemble the fallen blades together. Putting together a weapon in the dark requires spatial memory on where it sounded as it landed while simultaneously avoiding even more blades, and he takes delight in challenging himself this way.

At the seventeen minute mark, Jongdae has four complete sword-sized contraptions, and he slides two of them to the side. Three knives come from different angles, and he swings at the blades. They clink to the wall, and he brushes his hair out of his eyes. By this time, he is exhausted, more so than usual, and he laments having an internal tantrum about Baekhyun and Kyungsoo earlier when he could have been resting.

He dodges a blade, but then suddenly, he finds himself slipping on a knife that must have rebounded too far to the center. “Fuck!” he grunts when his bottom makes impact with the floor, and he thanks the lords above there wasn’t a knife currently in his asscheek.

Jongdae quickly scrambles to his feet, but a blade scratches through his shirt across the back of his left shoulder and he hisses. Straining to maintain his balance and fight off the feeling of getting up too quickly, he takes a few more scratches to back and shoulder areas before regaining his full senses. With two and a half minutes to spare, he isn’t worried about the rather minimal blood loss, but the stinging sensations are impossible to ignore. As he fends off incoming knives, he presses into his wounds as he backs away into the corner designed to be the safest area in the room.

He sinks to the ground with the corner supporting him, but he keeps his crafted sword in his hands to deflect the blades shooting into the corner. He misjudges the timing of one swing, and the knife actually ends up rebounding into his lap, marking his right thigh. Three swings after that, and another knife smacks his face with its handle, and he scowls.

The throwing knives aren’t designed to directly pierce the target, only to graze their figures. He decides on huddling in the corner with his head to his knees and hands over his neck to protect the most valuable asset of his face after one blade ricochets to nick his cheek.

Soon after, the simulation ends. The lights come back on, and Jongdae spreads his legs out in exhaustion while the machine console returns to its place off-center in the room. He uses his weight against the wall to slide his back down onto the floor and looks up at the ceiling. The lights seem to be swirling around, and he feels the delicious pain of the cuts on his back.

Muttering to himself, he sighs, “You really are stupid. And useless.” Pressing his fingers to his arm wounds, he feels his heart pulse harder. And then he gets to his feet with a startle because, holy shit, his dick should not have twitched from _that_. He leans back against the wall and creeps his palm to his thigh. He applies pressure to the cut, and a moan tears itself out of his mouth before he can stop it in some way. Reaching to the back of his neck, he prods the thin nicks and _shudders_.

He quickly makes his way to the simulator controller and pauses over the knife throwing stage before decisively letting his finger lay on the screen. The agony of waiting is even worse this time, and when the screen finally loads, he presses Level One.

Level One was the most basic of basics; Jongdae had never actually done the level, opting to watch the less adept members work their way up to higher levels while he immediately went for Level Five. If he remembered correctly, a guide would be given on where to place the body and where to move to avoid getting hit. The simulation would last two minutes, and a knife would be thrown to the edges of his body every ten seconds.

He swallows apprehensively before walking to the red hologram signalling where he should place his body. The lights don’t dim at all, and the computer intercom confirms the instructions. The hologram Jongdae is standing through twists its right arm up; Jongdae stays in his position. In its pleasant monotone drone, the software counts off, “Three, two, one, knife!”

The swit of the knife comes as Jongdae expected, and as it notches past his skin, he gasps. Knife two and three slice at his lower back and left cheek, respectively, and he feels the thrum of arousal both times. His panting becomes louder and louder with each chafe of his skin, and he fights to maintain his stance rather than bring his hand to his growing bulge.

On the eighth knife, he’s planning to go another round (or three) with the simulator. On the ninth knife, he considers putting it on Level Two. On the tenth knife, he hears a knock at the door and freezes midmoan.

“Jongdae,” Yixing’s voice peters through the door, “Are you alright?

Jongdae doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. On one hand, he doesn’t want to move from his position with another twenty seconds yielding two knives ready to launch at him. On the other, he’s pretty sure Yixing would question his mental state and turn him in to the scientists to check for instability. But his body refuses to move, and the next knife comes and marks the pad of his index finger, and he inhales sharply.

Yixing evidently takes that as a sign for him to come check to see what’s wrong, and he slowly tries the handle of the unlocked door. Jongdae tries to avert his eyes to avoid directly looking at Yixing, but he fails miserably when Yixing begins to stride into his line of sight. He resorts to closing his eyes as the intercom starts for the last time, “Three, two, one, knife!” But Jongdae doesn’t feel the slash of pleasure arrive.

He opens his eyes to see the last blade in Yixing’s hand (inside, he is admiring Yixing’s quick reflexes) and Yixing gazing at him with a look of mild dismay and a hint of… curiosity?

The delay of the last of the strikes makes itself known in Jongdae’s head, and he sinks to his knees, all the while looking up at Yixing, who quickly rushes over. “Explain,” the healer demands as he maneuvers Jongdae into his lap.

Jongdae blinks, then smirks. “Are you going to heal me, then?” As Yixing’s eyes become stormy, he accedes. “I was practicing. I got hurt, and I wanted to get hurt more. Satisfied?” He almost feels uncomfortable admitting the last statement, but he feels better knowing he’s probably making Yixing uncomfortable as well. He tries to wiggle his legs out of Yixing’s hold, but suddenly Yixing’s lips are whispering against his ear.

“I’ll heal you,” he acquiesces. He wraps his arms around Jongdae’s torso. “Do you know how this works?” Jongdae is suddenly reaware of his arousal, but the promises of Yixing’s healing methods gives more reason for him to remain in his lap.

Everyone who has been injured on missions is guaranteed to be fixed up almost immediately thanks to Yixing. Baekhyun has told Jongdae about the process as the most accident-prone member, and Jongdae has never had a chance to experience it before due to his usual absence on the field.

Yixing’s power, being healing, is channeled from several sources: his saliva, which had the most immediate effect on minor wounds; his blood, which could be used for a multitude of purposes, the most common being to stall internal bleeding or fight infection; his tears, which have been tested, but never truly used, for overall rejuvenating purposes. If Jongdae’s quick self-diagnosis was correct, then what would be most efficient for Yixing to spare was his saliva. Which meant….

Yixing holds Jongdae down by his thighs and mouths the side of Jongdae’s neck. Jongdae stiffens before melting pliantly into Yixing’s chest, content to just be healed. The warmth of his mouth spreads to his cheekbone before softly lapping at the opening there, and Jongdae keens. “It must be so nice to have the best immune system in the world,” he sighs, and Yixing laughs into his face.

The ministrations continue alongside Jongdae’s jawline, where he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have any injuries, but he doesn’t feel like stopping the healer now. When Yixing has covered the full expanse of Jongdae’s face, he leans back for a few moments. Jongdae stares back at him quizzically, even daring to turn his head to the side and Yixing snorts. “You look like a kitty,” he explains. “It’s the corners of your lips.”

And how is Jongdae to respond to that with anything but surging forward in Yixing’s lap to smooch his kitty lips against Yixing’s plush ones?

The sudden imbalance almost topples them both over, but Yixing responds to Jongdae’s in the best way as he reaches a hand out behind him to let them down easily. Jongdae is full-on straddling the older man, but he only focuses on his lips. He uses his teeth to tug at Yixing’s bottom lip; slips his tongue past the opening and suckles on Yixing’s own. He recedes, and Yixing takes it as his own turn to thrust his own tongue in. They separate, panting, and meet again. Jongdae swears he tastes his own blood in his mouth, and if that doesn’t turn him the fuck on, he doesn’t know what does. When Yixing’s tongue returns back to his own mouth, Jongdae recaptures his bottom lip and pulls at it with his teeth. When Yixing realizes what he is trying to do, he laughs. He allows Jongdae to gnaw at his lips for a few more moments before nudging the blade he still held against Jongdae’s torso.

Jongdae backs away and waits expectantly for Yixing to sit up. Yixing brings the knife to his thumb and pricks it, allowing the blood to well up before pressing it to Jongdae’s mouth. His lips part around the digit easily, and he marvels at how pleasant Yixing’s blood tasted. “How much sugar do you consume daily?” he asks after Yixing takes his finger back. “Your blood is actually really sweet.”

The knife is brought up to Yixing’s mouth this time, and he pricks his own lip. Jongdae invites himself back into Yixing’s embrace and tastes the blood there. He marvels at how he can feel the cut Yixing made start to close as their saliva and blood mixes together. Yixing edges himself back down, and Jongdae peers at his lip, which is fully healed. “The scientists keep me going on a regular diet, but I sneak chocolates every few hours,” Yixing clarifies. Jongdae claps his hands together in amusement and comes down for a final kiss.

As he pulls his head away, he grinds his hips into Yixing. He feels Yixing’s hardness against his through the soft fabric of their military-issued training pants and grins. “I’m glad you came prepared to exercise,” he coos, and with a snort of derision, Yixing rolls them over so that Jongdae is splayed beneath him.

Jongdae feels properly ravished by the time Yixing pulls off his shirt. The other had seen to his collarbones with the utmost attention while palming at his crotch, allowing Jongdae to thrust as he pleased. He was now mouthing at Jongdae’s nipples, alternating between them with bites and tweaks. By this moment, Jongdae was sure he was moaning rather wantonly, but with every zap of _pain!_ he felt the lust rise to a higher degree.

He slides his hands under Yixing’s shirt and runs them up and down his back, leaving lines of scratches that promptly mend themselves. He would be jealous of the bulk he feels, Yixing’s dorsal muscles rippling underneath his palms, if he didn’t prize his own lithe frame.

Just as he is about to show the bulge the attention it deserves, Yixing holds him away at arm’s length and turns him around. He grits his teeth as he fights the urge to hump the floor, but Yixing is everywhere, leaving a stream of kisses and saliva along his shoulders before dipping lower to his back dimples. Finally losing the last of his shame, he moans and ruts against the ground.

Yixing takes care of him so well, keeping a soft pressure on his crotch while making sure his cuts stitch themselves together. He massages out the kinks in Jongdae’s back, and Jongdae is torn between lying there accepting Yixing’s kindness and the urge to _do something_. His instinct takes over, and he spreads his legs for his ankles to wrap around Yixing’s body. Slightly grunting, he lifts his hips – only to plop into Yixing’s lap.

He digs his butt into Yixing’s crotch and reaches over his shoulder to take the other’s hands. He guides them along his torso before lifting them to his neck. Jongdae lets Yixing ghost his fingers along his Adam’s apple before sinking back into Yixing’s chest. In this position, Yixing is free to do as he pleases.

An arm snakes its way down to his cock; the other stays near his throat. Yixing licks at the shell of Jongdae’s ear before asking, “Is this okay?” Slight pressure is applied to both his neck and dick, and Jongdae moans his consent. He wiggles his ass, hoping Yixing will finally decide to put his cock to use, and it works: Yixing lifts Jongdae off his lap and sets him aside as if he weighs nothing and works his pants off his hips. Placing his face over Yixing’s crotch, Jongdae guides the pant leg off his feet before mouthing at his cock through the cotton.

Yixing’s briefs are fully soaked and almost translucent by the time his dick is trying to escape the confines of the band. Jongdae croons at the red tip poking through. Lowering his head to the beginning of Yixing’s happy trail, he pulls back the band and feels the cock bounce to his chin. The briefs quickly come off, and Jongdae takes Yixing in all the way to his base. He’s content to just hold him in his mouth, comfortable with the minimal hair Yixing harbored. He did love a man who understood self-grooming.

He feels the weight of Yixing’s hands lie almost hesitantly in his hair, and to encourage him to do more, he swallows around Yixing’s dick. His throat contracts and Yixing gasps, suddenly pulling at Jongdae’s curls, and Jongdae smirks the best he can with a cock in his mouth.

His mouth slowly tightens as he bobs upward. He sinks back down, allowing Yixing’s tip to hit the back of his throat. His hands occupy themselves with Yixing’s balls, switching between rolling and massaging and pinching.

The pace seems too slow for him, and he is sure Yixing feels the same way. He pulls off, looking up at Yixing. “You can go rougher.” Yixing almost looks embarrassed, and Jongdae repositions the hands in his hair. “You’ve already seen me enjoying the knives. This can’t be any worse.” His smile seems to reassure Yixing, who feeds his cock towards Jongdae.

The tip is leaking – has been leaking for a while – and Yixing smears it delicately across Jongdae’s cheek before placing it at his parted lips. Jongdae keeps his jaw dropped, waiting for the weight of the cock on his tongue, but he is unprepared for the sudden surge of Yixing’s thrust. In an attempt to relax his throat, he grabs at Yixing’s thighs and digs his nails into them. It works, and Yixing continues his relentless speed, even speeding up. Jongdae can’t do much else besides palm at his own dick and keep his mouth open, and saliva mixed with who knows what dribbles from his chin to his chest.

Yixing seems intent on chasing his pleasure, and Jongdae really wouldn’t mind a load blown all over his face, but it begins to slow down. The cock is forced away from Jongdae’s lips, and they both pant in harmony. The air already smells of sex, and Jongdae is sincere when he begs, “Yixing, fuck me already.”

The older man seems less enthralled with causing Jongdae pain, but knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Jongdae sticks four digits into Yixing’s mouth as Yixing works on pulling off his lower garments. As soon as his ass is exposed, Jongdae sticks two saliva-ridden fingers into his hole and quickly it becomes three. Yixing watches the digits thrust in and out, knowing their stubby lengths were no match for his dick. Jongdae’s face is riddled with pain that quickly morphs into pleasure. When Jongdae has four fingers spreading himself open, he pushes Yixing onto his back. He removes his fingers and gives Yixing one last lick from base to tip before positioning the cockhead at his entrance.

Sliding down proves to be easier than he thought; the pain he expected only a dull afterthought, but getting to the base was a problem. Jongdae feels the ridges of Yixing’s cock against his walls as he slightly raises his hips for more leverage. He tests it again, trying to force his way down Yixing’s cock, one time, two times. Yixing seems to be enjoying the sensations, but Jongdae is selfish and seeks his own pleasure. With the tip almost slipping out, he quickly slams his weight down and screams.

He’s ass-to-crotch with Yixing, and the dick is reaching areas he would have never thought possible. The stretch is painful and he sobs forward into Yixing’s chest. Yixing’s panic is palpable, but Jongdae is quick to reassure him with a tearful smile. “It feels… so,” Jongdae gasps, “good, just wait, let me adjust, oh my god…”

His ass can do nothing but clench around Yixing’s cock, milking at it, and before he can let Yixing’s guilt at feeling pleasure fully form, Jongdae bounces in his lap. They both moan, Jongdae’s voice twinged with slight pain, but he doesn’t stop. The bounces turn to rotations and then full on grinds. Jongdae manages to pull off to half of Yixing’s length, before dropping back to the bottom with way more ease than the first time.

And then he realizes blood is seeping out of his ass along with saliva and everything else, aiding in the lubrication process, but he can’t bring himself to stop bouncing. He manages to ride the full length of Yixing for a good twenty seconds before Yixing notices.

He’s already sputtering excuses as Yixing’s eyes widen, begging for him to ignore it, to continue with the sex. So obviously, he’s surprised when the other man changes their positions without pulling out, a steely glint in his gaze all the while. And then he moans, for his back against the ground provides a whole new angle for Yixing’s dick to drive deep within him, and Yixing is not lacking in neither speed nor power. Between moans, Yixing smiles smugly. “You can’t have not considered my semen having healing properties?” He lowers his head to press a kiss against Jongdae’s open mouth and pinches at Jongdae’s abused nipples.

In this position, Jongdae can do nothing but take Yixing’s dick, and he is begin to hate the passiveness. On a wild spur of the moment, he brings his arms around Yixing’s neck when he lurches forward with his thrust. “Stand up, Yixing,” he pants. And Yixing, with his miraculous upper body strength, continues to fuck the blood and saliva into Jongdae while bringing his body up in a curl and suddenly, he is standing.

Yixing walks Jongdae to a wall, allowing the brunt of Jongdae’s shoulders to take some of the weight. Jongdae uses his own leverage to rise and let gravity take care of his descent. He can feel Yixing is close, if the way his thrusts have become erratic and less intense are any indication. Jongdae brings his head to the nape of Yixing’s neck, nuzzling it and then blowing steadily across. Yixing stiffens, and Jongdae feels the splash of semen against his inner walls.

He gives Yixing a minute to recover, staying connected to him even as they slid to the floor. Jongdae’s cock is purpling by this point, but denying it from ejaculating feels strangely euphoric. Yixing slides out slowly, strings of cum and blood still attaching the two men. Jongdae is laid down, back once again on the floor, but it’s different now in that –

Yixing’s tongue is at his ass.

The stretch of Yixing’s cock was so much more intense than this, but Jongdae revels in being eaten out. The knowledge that his ass was stretched so far it bled but was then healed by Yixing’s cum was a turn on, and Yixing’s gentle lapping sooths his nonexistent pain. Yixing brings him to a slow, enjoyable orgasm, pressing his tongue against walls that pliantly mold to fit the organ.

Afterwards, as they lie in a heap of clothes and blades, Jongdae offers a whole-hearted thanks to Yixing for the experience. “I didn’t realize it was like this, I mean, I’ve never had to be healed before. By you,” Jongdae murmurs.

Yixing turns to face Jongdae. “Your practice session, the knives. This doesn’t have anything to do with you not going out into the field, does it?” His eyes search Jongdae’s face, and Jongdae feels small, exposed, weak. Useless.

“I feel incompetent,” he admits. He averts his eyes away from Yixing. “They’ve engineered me to control electricity by age seventeen, yet here I am. A nineteen year old who can’t even manage thunderstorms. I’m way behind in the developmental phases of my powers compared to all of you, and I feel like I should be punished for it.”

He meets Yixing’s eyes, searching for an answer he knew the other wouldn’t have. He sighs. “And now, I’m the only one not being sent out on missions, and it’s only a matter of time that they scrap me.” He scoffs lightly. “We’re all replaceable, right? Just engineer a new child, give them more control, and you have a perfect electricity-wielder for the team.”

“Jongdae.”

But as his words spilled out, they came tumultuously, unbidden. “Or maybe I’ll be in the city for the rest of my time, forever killing innocent lives who want to see the possibility of having a better life! Yixing,” Jongdae says as the tears begin to well up, “they’re not bad people. We’re the bad ones. We kill when they ask us to, and there’s nothing else we can do because it’s in our nature!”

With his final explosive words, Jongdae fights to hold his tears back. His eyes sting; he shuts them, prolonging the time he has before the liquid slips out. There’s shifting, and he feels Yixing wrap his arms around him, coddling him. Yixing begins to rock gently, and Jongdae hates this feeling of being weak, but he tightens his grip at Yixing’s arm and allows himself to be lulled to a calmer state.

After Jongdae has made sure no tears would come out, he opens his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he laughs wryly. “I don’t know what came over me. Please ignore what I’ve said in the past five minutes.” He begins to extricate himself from Yixing’s grasp, but Yixing only holds on tighter until he begins to speak, haltingly.

“Jongdae… not everything you are concerned about can be solved. But this is okay. It’s not wrong,” Yixing’s face scrunches in an attempt to find the right words, and Jongdae knows ‘this’ refers to more than just what just transpired in the room, “for you to want to be used more, even while you know you are – we are – doing bad things.”

He pauses and they look around nervously, half expecting someone to come in as they talk shit about the establishment. When nothing happens, he relaxes his grip on Jongdae and continues. “In the future, please come to me when you’re feeling this way. Don’t turn to hurting yourself alone where I might not be able to help you,” he warns. “Use this… masochistic behavior as a reward rather than a punishment.”

Jongdae huffs and stands up. “Are you offering to be my personal healer?”

“Yes.” Yixing’s grin is heartwarming before he turns his expression to a more serious one. “About your powers, I think I can help with that as well. When you shocked everyone, those of us with no water or fire related abilities were relatively unaffected.”

The wheels turn in Jongdae’s head. “You’re saying you’re willing to be a conduit for my electricity? Won’t it hurt?”

Yixing’s mien becomes sly. “You say that as if you don’t realize we both have a thing for pain.”

He feels his ears turn red, and he sputters his thanks. “And in the unlikely case you do hurt me, my body _will_ heal itself.” Yixing gets to his feet and ushers him to the door. Before Jongdae steps out, he turns around and halfheartedly punches Yixing in the chest.

“That’s for you not doing this before today,” he sulks. He makes his way through the doorway before he feels Yixing reach for his fingers.

And with his other hand, Yixing brings Jongdae’s head close, pushing his hair aside and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “That’s for you not opening up to anyone but making the decision to trust in me,” he says cheekily, dimples in all their glory, from behind the door before it closes and locks firmly.

Jongdae stands in the hallway, contemplating pounding on the door for Yixing to let him back in, before sighing and walking to the dorms. The Dream Team would be back from a successful mission, and he could use the hours he had to rest in preparation for Baekhyun’s presence.

  


_brontide: the low rumbling of distant thunder_

  


**Author's Note:**

> this was beyond disgusting and will most likely be part of a series. i'm sorry


End file.
